|Sophinisba Solis (sophinisba) wrote,|
@ 2006-08-18 01:31 pm UTC
|Entry tags:||fandom: the faculty, fic, fic: the faculty, fic: the faculty: ficlets, genre: boyslash|
Here is a Zeke/Casey fic in ten drabbles, written as a thank you to mews1945 in accordance with the typo policy, on the strong side of PG-13.
When Casey closes his eyes the page flashes from white to red, the type from black to yellow. He has to close his eyes because the glare of the sun is making them ache, but the book is interesting, and lying on his stomach in the hot sun, alone, with his eyes closed, is boring as hell. He reads "whales with breasts and sharks with two penises," rests his eyes, reads "flying fish and beaches with more pearls than sand," and wonders if there's something wrong with his eyes or with his head, or just something wrong with his boyfriend.
Zeke has reformed, to an extent, since high school. He doesn't sell anything illegal anymore (though he keeps a still and a supply of caffeine pills, and he carries a scat pen around with him at all times, even on planes and through customs). But porn and condoms are always in demand, and there are always people who'd rather buy them from a guy they knew than at a store. Even on vacation, even at the beach, Zeke's got fratboys to see, deals to make. Casey's got a towel and a copy of The Buried Mirror. Things could be worse.
Zeke bought the tickets to Cancún without consulting him.
"You think I wanna lie on the beach all day?" said Casey. "Why not New York or D.C. or Mexico City?"
"Time for you to overcome your fears, Casey."
At least Casey convinced him to come down to Playa del Carmen, where there are some European tourists in addition to the American ones.
He hasn't overcome anything yet. Casey doesn't feel the need to keep a pen in his pocket, but he still has issues with limitless oceans and other large bodies of water, not to mention jellyfish with stinging tentacles
That's why he's here and not in the water.
"Quisiera una Fanta, por favor," he says to the vendor who comes around lugging a cooler of canned pop and beer.
"What flavor, man? Orange, lemon, grape?"
It would be as easy to say limón as lemon, but at this point it would be arrogance more than cultural sensitivity, so he gives up on the Spanish. Hell, what does he expect, to pass for a native? With skin like his?
That's when he notices the sunburn on the back of his thighs, the one place he missed with the sunscreen. Typical.
Back in the hotel room Casey undresses cautiously, not wanting his clothes to touch his skin because it hurts too much. He turns away from the mirror after only a glance. Burning red against a sickly blank page, easy enough for any idiot to read: the loser got left alone. He lies on his stomach on the bed, wishing the fan would do more than move hot air around. The sheets are clean but Casey isn't, and when he sleeps he dreams of shipwrecked explorers, mythical monsters, Amazon queens, hot sand melted into glass and buried in the Mexican desert.
"That's what you get for reading Octavio Paz at the beach," Zeke says from the doorway.
"Fuck you," Casey groans. When he's a little more awake he adds, "And it's Carlos Fuentes."
"Same shit, man. Labyrinths, masks, mirrors, solitude: same fucking four words over and over up and down a continent. Come on, Case, you're supposed to be on vacation. What's with the school books?"
"It was engrossing, okay? And you're supposed to be on vacation too. What's with the flavored condoms?"
Zeke shrugs. "No rest for the wicked."
"Fine, and no sex for the neglectful. I already feel fucked."
Casey props himself up on his elbows. "You got the food by yourself?" he says.
"Yeah, Casey. It's not like I need two years at Oberlin to teach me how to say burritos de pollo, no cebolla."
"Sin cebolla, asshole."
"Tomato, tomate. Are you gonna sit up?"
Casey shakes his head. "It hurts too much."
"So what, I'm feeding it to you while you lie there?"
Casey thinks for a few seconds. "You could do that. I could use some penance for today."
"It's your own fault you didn't use sunscreen."
"Yeah, fine then."
"Thanks for holding the onions."
It's a little weird and more than a little messy eating out of Zeke's hand, but it's good for a laugh and a meal. Afterwards Zeke spends a minute at the bathroom sink. When he comes back he starts massaging something cool and smooth into Casey's slightly sunburned back.
"Mmmm, it's fucking fantastic. I wasn't gonna let you touch the really bad burn, but if you… Gentle, just like you're doing…"
"I know." He rubs a little lower, and Casey moans. "Like that, don't you?" And lower.
"Yeah," says Casey, "but you're still not getting any tonight."
"The Aztecs thought avocados had aphrodisiacal properties," says Zeke.
"Yeah, well, we're in Maya country, you kinky bastard."
"Avocados aren't kinky. Now, if this were a porno, you wouldn't be sunburned in the first place. Your ass and thighs would be red and hot because I'd been spanking you…"
"And then when I'm rubbing the salve in, and it feels so good you start moaning like you have been, I start sliding my thumb into your crack, and after that…"
"Thing is, Zeke, this isn't a porno. It's a relationship."
"Could be a healthier one."
"Tell me about it."
But Zeke relents, massages Casey's ass and leaves his asshole alone. They shower together in lukewarm water and sleep side by side. In the following days they visit colonial churches and Maya ruins, and Casey's glare keeps Zeke's business instincts under control. Every night there's a different treatment --tomato, mango, cold marigold tea-- always spread on with Zeke's talented fingers and often licked off with his even more talented tongue. But there's no sex until they get back to Ohio, and even then it has to be Careful Sex.
"Next time, no books," says Zeke.
"Next time, no beaches."